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Five seconds after he’d shot his load into the mouth sucking tight around him, Blake heard Loki’s voice: From now on, you won’t have anyone but me.
Fuck.
“Give me a call maybe, yeah?” the stranger said with a grin, getting up off his knees. He stuck a piece of paper into the pocket of Blake’s shirt and strolled out of the bathroom. The music of the club grew louder for a second before fading again as the door swung shut.
Blake stumbled over to the trashcan to throw away the condom, and then leaned over a sink.
He felt…guilty.
What the fuck had he been thinking? Five hours ago, he’d had clamps on his nipples, a collar around his throat, and Loki holding the leash while he rode Blake’s cock.
He’d been in fucking heaven.
And then he’d come here and—and he didn’t even know why. Blake fumbled the piece of paper with the guy’s number on it out of his pocket and crumpled it in a ball, dropping it on the floor. He felt nauseous—dizzy.
The bass beat of the music inundated him as he pushed through the crowd. And then he was outside in the muggy night air. He took out his cell.
“Yes?” Loki’s voice was smooth, soothing.
“Hey—it’s—it’s me.”
“Thor.” Loki’s tone grew deeper, almost purring.
He answered to that name as readily as his own now.
“I—I’m at this club,” he continued. “And—” He squeezed his eyes shut.
“What have you done?”
There it was—the displeasure, the undercurrent of cold anger.
“I just—there was this guy and—I just…” His voice broke.
“Get a taxi,” Loki said. The anger was gone, the words devoid of any inflection. “Come here. Come to me, brother.”
“I—I will,” he managed.
The call went dead.
*
Twenty minutes later, he was standing at the back door of Asgard. He let himself in and walked down the hallway towards Loki’s office and the room that adjoined it. He could have found his way blindfolded.
When he opened the door, Loki was waiting for him.
Blake’s mouth went dry. Loki was sitting in the tall, wide chair that dominated the center of the room. And he was wearing a fucking suit of armor.
Leather pants and boots. A breastplate and gauntlets of some burnished metal. And a helmet that bore two long, curving horns rolling back from the forehead.
Dimly, Blake felt his knees hit the floor.
“Your obeisance comes too late, Thor,” Loki said. “Now come closer. Crawl.”
He did it, making his way slowly across the floor on his hands and knees until his face was an inch from Loki’s tall boots.
“Stop,” Loki commanded.
He froze. A second later, Loki placed his booted foot against his shoulder and shoved. Blake went with it, letting Loki push him onto his back. He ended up sprawled on the floor, Loki standing over him, his boot pinned against Blake’s chest.
“Now tell me,” Loki whispered, “exactly what you did.”
Blake told him, flushing with shame as the words poured out of him. It seemed so cheap, so pitiful in retrospect. Why had he sought out some stranger when he had this?
He fell silent. Loki stared down at him a moment longer before speaking.
“You were always impulsive, brother. Always running off to pursue whatever whim seized your fancy.”
Blake shivered. Loki never broke out of this persona—always insisted Blake was his brother, Thor—a god, for fuck’s sake. But he couldn’t deny that Loki was right about the way he was always rushing into things, heedless, never stopping to think through the consequences.
“But I promised to teach you to behave, didn’t I?” Loki murmured. “I shall have to punish you for this…infraction.” His voice turned colder, and he leaned down to grip Blake’s chin. “I will ensure that you never desire to seek pleasure from any hand but mine.”
Blake shut his eyes, cock thickening at Loki’s words.
*
Loki took his time preparing him. He undressed Blake, sneering when he found the stained proof of Blake’s disobedience. When Blake was naked and flushed with shame, Loki strapped his ankles into a spreader bar, leaving his hands free.
“First, I’m going to have you show me that you actually can obey an order,” Loki said. He pulled off his helmet and set it in front of Blake. “Lick it clean.”
It was hard to move with his legs spread wide and shackled, but he managed to draw the helmet closer. He licked his tongue along one of the golden horns.
“That’s it,” Loki breathed, and suddenly the tickle of a riding crop stung his ass. “Faster,” Loki commanded.
He lapped at the metal, hardly noticing its bitter taste.
Loki hit him harder, and he grunted at the sensation—the sharp pain which then dissipated, tingling and burning through his skin. His balls and perineum felt exposed and vulnerable. He was hyperaware of his flesh, and that awareness stoked his arousal.
“Once I sat on the throne,” Loki said softly, trailing the crop up his back and then down again. “But you never knelt before me so prettily.”
Another stroke, and then Loki ordered him to stop licking. Loki nudged the helmet aside.
“I can’t say you did a good job, but at least you didn’t disobey me.” A pause, and Blake bowed his head, knowing what was coming.
Loki’s fingers dug into his jaw, wrenching his head up. “Why?” Loki whispered. “Why must you always debase the love that I bear you?”
“I don’t,” Blake protested, guilt swamping him at the pain in Loki’s eyes. “I’ve never—before—this was the first time, and I—I don’t even know why. I was drunk, not thinking—”
Loki stood up abruptly, striding swiftly to one of the cabinets against the wall. When he returned, he held a ball gag in his hand. He fastened it around Blake’s head, fitting it into his mouth, effectively silencing him.
“You mustn’t lie, Thor,” Loki said, stroking his hair. “Sif—that other woman, Jane—do not pretend they did not claim your affections.” His gentle petting turned into a painful tug.
Blake shook his head, trying to tell Loki that he had never heard of these people, that some drunken fumbling could never erase how much he needed Loki, how much he craved this time they spent together.
“It will take years, brother,” Loki hissed, “to assuage the grief you have caused me.”
Blake stretched out his arms, wrapping his fingers around one of Loki’s leather boots. He would do anything to show Loki his devotion—anything. Just so he never lost the silvered tones of Loki’s voice, the cool, commanding touch of his fingers.
“And now you have once more given yourself to someone who could never deserve the tempered storm of your regard,” Loki continued. “This whore that knelt for you—he has tainted your body.”
Blake’s knees and thighs burned from being trapped in the spreader bar, his jaw ached around the gag, and the lash marks stung at his skin. But Loki’s words dug into him, taunting and disdainful.
Loki moved behind him, and Blake felt his strong grasp on his hips. Then Loki ran his hands up Blake’s body, pressing firmly, unmindful of the reddened welts that he roughly brushed against. The gag caught Blake’s gasp of pain.
“I will drive his touch from your skin,” Loki vowed. “Your flesh will remember no one but me.”
Loki’s hands became caressing, soothing. He drew his nails along one of the welts—so light as to be barely felt. The shivery almost-pain roused Blake’s cock, and he pressed his cheek to the floor, spit seeping around the gag.
“Pain always follows close behind our love, does it not?” Loki murmured, repeating the movement. “Ah, but then you do not remember our sparring, our passion, our pursuits.”
Blake shook his head, knowing he could not lie to Loki, even if he might wish it.
“Never fear, brother.” Loki kissed one of the lash marks, and then set his teeth to it, a quick bite that left a dull, throbbing pain in its wake. “I shall find her for you. I shall find Mjölnir. Your power, your memories—all will be restored.”
And Blake almost believed him.